


The Judas Wolf

by rainer76



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Reality, M/M, Multi-verse, Slow Burn, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2019-02-10 22:34:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12921618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainer76/pseuds/rainer76
Summary: On Hela’s coronation day, someone breaks into the vault to steal the Casket of Winters, and succeeds.  Thor Odinson, second to the throne, is sent to Jotunheim to retrieve it, and to answer the insult given.





	The Judas Wolf

 

 

Before creation itself, there were six singularities, then the universe exploded into existence and the remnants of this system were forged into concentrated ingots... Infinity Stones."  
                                          —Guardians of the Galaxy

 

BEFORE:

  
_You have to get up,_ she said. Her tone stretched between compassionate and calloused. Her eyes were dry, her throat itched. _Please, my lord, get up._

 _I left him on Svartalfheim. I left and didn’t look back and he wasn’t..._ Helplessly, Thor trailed off.

His head was bowed. She couldn’t see his expression, only in profile, the demarcation line where his eyepatch hid the cavern of his wound. Loki had taken one long look at Thano’s ship as it appeared and tossed Thor straight out of the air-lock, head first into outer space. A minute speck, lost among the grandness of all those stars. His magic was woven tightly around the king (to protect him from the void, to command his trajectory to a nearby - and alien - crew) but everyone else onboard had borne witness to what happened next.

Everyone else heard and saw, listened to the pitch of those wretched screams.

Her hand clenches and unclenches. She needs a drink.

 _You have to get up,_ she repeats, and then desperately, _Thor, it’s what hero’s do._

The words sound as hollow to her ears as Thor’s stuttered laugh. He has one hand resting on his brother’s torso, fingers buried in the blood-sodden tunic. Loki’s been straightened, limbs repositioned for funeral rites. _Why didn’t he leave it behind,_ he asked harshly, _for gods sake,_ this time a shout, this time a sudden shake, _why couldn’t you leave it behind, Loki! Why didn’t you let it explode with the rest of Asgard?_

He’s not expecting an answer, he can’t fathom one in his state of grief. Maybe that’s why she makes the overture, fingers curling around his collarbone. Getting familiar. At a loss, she tries _The tesserect was an infinity stone. If it had gone up with Surtur, with Asgard, the explosion would have taken out the quadrant, Thor, let alone the refugees aboard this ship. It wasn’t…._ She closes her eyes and starts again. _If I may, I don’t believe he intended betrayal. I think in taking it, he had no choice. Not if he wanted us – you – to survive Ragnarok._

Thor stilled.

She wasn’t entitled to see him cry, not after everything Thor had endured, before Thanos and after.

It made her want to fight, or walk away, or find the nearest bar. He should have the time he needs to heal, but their king had been in the cargo bay for hours now, sitting vigil by his brother’s corpse, not believing it real, and the calls from Midgard are taking on a desperate note. Against Thanos, Midgard lost its first fight.  For the first time the Avengers didn’t emerge victorious, caught on the back foot as they were, but they did survive.  The battle was waged on both dirt and space, until Thor could create a vortex gate-ring in geosynchronous orbit, and pull Thano’s mothership to another region of space. Thano’s will return; but it will take time to regather his scattered fleet and make the journey, and that’s time enough to regroup their forces on Midgard for the second coming.

_He bargained for our lives…he got you far away from Thano’s grip. Loki, your brother, walked into that room afraid, knowing his own was forfeit._

Thor shuddered under her, recoiling. He had shaken Loki too hard in his sudden rant.

They had done much to restore him to his previous self, but now his torso was caved inward, the bones of his skull pressed out of alignment, his expression grotesque. His skin was bloodless, his eyes a hellish red. The projected illusion they had created crumbled to reveal the damage inflicted in his final moments, and she thinks maybe for all its ugliness this is better: that Thor sees the truth of it. However silver-tongued and clever, his brother had run out of tricks. He isn’t coming back. Sitting beside him, waiting, was useless.

 _I want to take it back,_ Thor said, raw with grief.

_What?_

_Everything,_ he yelled, _Gods, everything! From the very start, take it back._

 

 

 

***

The thing is: there are six infinity stones and of those six, four have been seen and re-named in recent history. The six stones represent six distinct powers – space, mind, reality, power, soul and time. Thanos has two, embedded in his knuckles like a character from a prison show. The Tesserect and the Orb glow blue and purple from the titan’s closed fist, the Sceptre and the Aether were found, fought over, and recently lost/or hidden. Of the two stones remaining, only soul and time remain unknown – only soul and time are laid bare – unhidden by a moniker, or a misleading title.

If Loki were alive, he might say the discrepancy was ironic. Soul and time are the most volatile ingots in creation.

****

 

From the Beginning:

 

Any person of note was convened in the Great Hall when the theft occurred, citizens crammed in by file and rank. The tall white columns of the inner sanctum were decorated with a riot of pretty flowers, ivy was twined across the walls. The city gleamed, rich with stolen gold, and the halls were hushed as Odin faltered mid-speech, his one eye gone wide.

Thor, an on-looker positioned below his mother, stood away from the wall, his ill mood gone wary.

“Frost Giants,” Odin whispered, and the king turned sharply on his heel.

Four aesir were discovered in the vaults far below the city, lowly guards run through by swords of ice, two Frost Giants were seared beyond recognition – their corpses blackened and curled in on themselves – and the Destroyer loomed silent and tall. Beyond that stood the dais of the Casket of Winters. Empty. And Thor, the unproven second child of Odin Allfather and Frigga, felt himself go hot with the portent of chance. “How did they manage the Keep, father?” He said, urgently.

She was coming. She was coming down the corridors, tripping down the stone stairway, striding toward them with a palpable rage. The shadows quivered before Hela like tormented wraiths. Thor continued: “How did they manage the bridge between our worlds? To enter, unseen?”

“It is an act of war,” Hela declared with surety, making her appearance on the final flight of steps. “We should make an example, destroy them to the last child.”

Odin was turned partially, his back presented to them both. He stared at the empty dais with a frown. “No. Jotunheim is subjugated and has been for centuries – this is a minor act of rebellion. Performed by a few warriors - some of whom have paid the price dearly.”

In the vault that housed the hidden treasures of Odin’s reign, the smell of scorched flesh was rank.

Thor crouched beside a giant. It was clothed in a loincloth, the skin corrugated rough, easily twice his height or more, and just as broad across the shoulders. It was barefoot. It held no visible weapon. Thor dusted his hands off and rose smoothly, in time to see Hela roll her eyes and scold.  “How can you say that? They _stole_ from us, under our very noses. If this is a rebellion, then I would see it squashed, Allfather. After all, they did ruin my perfect day.”

“And destroying a people, a culture in its entirety, teaches no further lessons, sister.”

“It does to the remaining realms who hear of it.”

“You should send me. You don’t need the Goddess of Death for a minor uprising in some over-frozen wasteland. Let me prove myself to you, father.”

“Odin – “ Hela took the last step down, sinuous with ill grace.

The Allfather twitched at her lack of address, his voice firming. “There has been activity on Midgard of late, a significant rise in power, a sure sign their people are ready for a higher form of warfare. Dissuade them, Hela, find the infinity stone they are experimenting with. Thor can command two reserve battalions and deal with the situation on Jotunheim.”

“You would send the God of _Weather_ \- of fair rains and sunshine, of full silos - to recover the Casket of Winters? Well then, I suppose it is thematic, isn’t it?” She turned a gimlet eye on Thor, contempt clear in her speech. “But are you certain you can spare him, Allfather? Our soldiers might grow hungry without Thor’s fine control over our harvest production.”

“Do not rile me so!” Thor countered, his hand clenching tight around Mjölnir’s handle.

“Oh, my apologies…God of Thunder…I’m sure your experience of warfare far exceeds mine.”

“Hela,” Odin warned. “Enough. You are compromised in this matter, and would be too heavy-handed in your dealings with Jotunheim. Thor may not have your years but he shows promise. Follow my instructions, daughter of mine, and know your coronation is heralded for another day.”

“Another day?” His sister had gone still at those words, tight and angry as a poked asp. Thor could see the heave of her shoulders, the sharp indrawn of her breath, and for a moment hate shone brightly in her eyes before it settled into docility. “Of course, my liege...it’s already been an eon, compared to that, what’s one more day?”

“Your reign will come yet. And Thor? Take care in this matter. Make sure you lead your battalions well.”

“I’m not frightened of the Frost Giants, father. Compared to the aesir warriors they’re little more than half-clothed animals. I will bring glory to my name, as rich and steeped in battle history as yours or my sister’s.” He puffed himself up, drew his shoulders back. Mjölnir pulsed faintly in his hands, sparks of lightning crawled across the runes and handle, illuminating the chamber in a flash of blue light.

Instead of clasping Thor’s shoulder, his old face shining with reflected pride, Odin closed down.

His tone went distant, his one eye remote. “Who thwarted my magic, who stole their way into this very room? Not all tests of leadership come by the point of a sword, Thor Odinson. May wisdom arrive late to my children, for fear it never comes at all.”

Irritated at the sleight, Thor said stiffly. “I’ll see your lost treasure is restored to you.”

Hela puckered her lips together, and as Thor drew by, blew an insolent kiss.

 

***

 


End file.
